


mystery at sea

by devyn_nichole



Category: The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Titanic Fusion, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, In later chapters - Freeform, Kinda, Light Smut, M/M, Suicide Attempt, Titanic AU, a little ooc but u gotta do what u gotta do, and also in super later chapters, and it happened in the movie so u know the drill, but its super vague and it also happened in the movie so, but not between kit and ty obvs, but with a twist, its gonna be super cool trust me, kit is rose, ty is jack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24543394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devyn_nichole/pseuds/devyn_nichole
Summary: The Titanic is the largest, most luxurious ship of its time, not to mention allegedly unsinkable. But Ty isn't on the ship for the experience; his murder suspect is one of the many first-class passengers aboard.The Titanic is everything Kit was brought up to strive for; lush and expensive, and entirely unattainable. While others are sailing towards a new beginning, the ship is the key to Kit's entrapment.This ship is Ty's chance at happiness and freedom -  but it is Kit's gilded cage.(FIRST TWO CHAPTERS REWRITTEN 07/02/2020)
Relationships: Tiberius Blackthorn & Anush Joshi, Tiberius Blackthorn/Kit Rook
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

“I don’t see what all the fuss is about. It doesn’t look any bigger than the  _ Mauretania _ .” 

That was a lie. The  _ Titanic  _ was a marvelous ship, even Kit, in an especially sour mood, could recognize that. The ship was huge and grand, and that was just the exterior. Kit could only imagine what the inside was like. 

The  _ Titanic  _ represented a new beginning for so many others in the crowd, but for Kit, it felt like nothing but a slaver ship, carting him off to a future where Kit saw nothing but unhappiness waiting for him. 

His fiancé, Joseph, looked annoyed, but that didn’t concern Kit in the slightest. It was a common expression on the man’s face. “You can be blasé about some things, Christopher, but  _ not  _ about the  _ Titanic _ .” Kit turned away from Joseph before he said something else that would get him into trouble, and went back to secretly admiring the ship. “It’s over a hundred feet longer than the  _ Mauretania _ , and far more luxurious,” his fiancé continued. 

Kit heard Joseph whisper something to Kit’s father, Johnny, as he stepped from the car, and Johnny laughed in response, but Kit didn’t bother to spare it a second thought, knowing he was only insulting Kit. His father and his fiancé were constantly muttering things about Kit, and he had learned to ignore it. No matter how hard Kit tried, there would always be something he was doing wrong in their eyes. With Joseph, he usually wasn’t being obedient or polite enough. Kit’s fiancé wasn’t particularly fond of his quick tongue and unimpressed attitude. Johnny was always displeased with Kit’s resistance of the marriage. They would never be satisfied with anything he did, and Kit was used to it. 

“So this is the ship they say is unsinkable.” Kit almost jumped when Johnny spoke, not aware of his father standing behind him. 

“It is unsinkable!” Joseph defended. “God himself could not sink this ship-what?”

Johnny wandered off as Joseph became preoccupied with a porter, and Kit followed his father, not wanting to get caught up in the crowd alone.

“‘Unsinkable’ my ass,” Johnny remarked to Kit. “No ship is ever unsinkable. I swear that bonehead will believe anything that’s told to him, no matter how ridiculous.” 

“If you think he’s such an idiot then why am I being forced to marry him?” Kit knew he should have kept his mouth shut, but he couldn’t help himself. He knew he was in trouble when his father’s hand tightened almost painfully on his upper arm. A warning. 

“You know why. I am not having this conversation with you again, Christopher.” 

Kit rolled his eyes where his father couldn’t see and shoved aside the anger rising in his chest, not wanting to push his luck. Johnny and Joseph had an… agreement. With Joseph’s steel empire and underhanded dealings combined with Johnny’s connections to important figures in the criminal underworld, they were a perfect team. But despite their partnership, they detested each other, and didn’t do much to hide it. The only thing they agreed on was their desire to control Kit. Johnny hated Joseph so much, yet he was the one forcing Kit to marry the man, all because he wanted the money and power it would provide. Not for the first time, Kit considered making a run for it into the crowd, but something stopped him. 

Kit desperately wished he had nothing to lose, but there were so many things keeping him in that situation. Fear, to start off. Where would he go? How would he make money? He knew enough tricks from Johnny’s lessons to earn himself a few coins, but nothing he could survive on. What would his father and Joseph do if they caught him? Just the thought made him sick with dread. The main thing keeping him from running was his mother. Johnny was his last connection to his mother, and if he left, all those connections would disappear. 

“Gentlemen,” Joseph said, nodding to Kit and his father. “We must hurry.” 

The small group hurried towards the first class gangway, dodging other passengers from the lower classes. Kit’s maid, Trudy Wentworth, trailed behind them, lugging bags of Kit’s more fragile items that were too delicate for the cargo handlers. Kit had tried to help with the bags, but his father cast him a sharp look that told him to knock it off. In a small act of defiance, Kit stayed behind to walk with Trudy, ignoring Joseph and Johnny’s side glances. 

Two young boys, steerage passengers, and their father bumped into Joseph, and Johnny bickered at him about his tendency to book things last-minute. Joseph smiled sarcastically.

“All part of my charm, Herondale. At any rate it was my darling fiancé’s beauty rituals which made us late.”

Kit huffed a breath. “ _ You  _ told me to change.” Kit knew he was being overly moody, but at that point he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“I couldn’t let you wear black on sailing day, sweetpea.” Kit’s insides churned at the pet name. “It’s bad luck.”

Kit raised his chin and shrugged indifferently. “I was feeling black.” His spirits lifted a bit when he heard Trudy giggle beside him. He gave her a quick grin and inconspicuously took a bag from her. 

Joseph guided them to the left, out of the path of a wagon. “Here I’ve pulled every string I could to book us on the grandest ship in history, in the most luxurious suites...,” Joseph clamped a hand down on Kit’s arm, “and you act as if you’re going to your execution.” 

_ Not my execution. Something much worse; marriage to you.  _ Kit refrained from saying the words out loud, instead letting Joseph lead him up the gangway and through the door to the ship, the hand on his arm feeling more like a chain, a few more strings of his freedom being pulled from his grasp. 

**********

From the window of the small pub they were tucked in at, Ty could see the  _ Titanic _ in all its glory, sitting in the port. The scent of cigar smoke and alcohol made Ty wrinkle his nose, and when the ship's foghorn bellowed, Ty had to restrain himself from covering his ears. To distract himself, Ty turned his focus back on the card game he was playing. 

Ty and his friend Anush Joshi had been in Paris on a case, and were now following a new lead. They had gotten themselves dealt in at a game of poker with two Swedish men, who happened to have two shiny third class tickets for the  _ Titanic _ , and those were more valuable to Ty than any amount of money. 

While the men conversed in their native language, Anush leaned over to Ty. 

"Ty, you're _ paagal _ ," Anush whispered. "You bet everything you have." 

"When you have nothing, you have nothing to lose," Ty replied confidently. "Trust me, Anush, I've got this." 

Anush didn't seem to be convinced, but he had seen Ty pull off crazier things, so he sat back. Ty tuned back into the conversation the other two men were engulfed in. He wasn't fluent in Swedish, but he could understand enough to pick up on the gist of what they were saying. The tall, muscular blond man - Olaf - was reprimanding his friend Sven for betting their tickets. Ty didn't bother with trying to work out Sven's reply. 

Ty needed those tickets, for two reasons. The first was the most important, at least for the time being: Ty had reason to believe there was a murderer boarding that ship. And since the  _ Titanic _ was going to be landing in America, Ty thought that he might be able to work up the courage to make his way to Los Angeles and see his family again. 

For now though, Ty concentrated on winning those tickets. They had less than ten minutes until the ship left port, and time was ticking. 

"Sven?" Ty prompted one of the men. For a few seconds they stared at each other, then Ty spoke up again. 

"Okay, moment of truth," he said. "Someone's life is about to change." Ty barely stopped himself from smiling. "Anush?" 

Anush laid his cards down with a defeated expression. 

" _ Kuchh nahin _ ?" Ty said. 

Anush repeated the words, sounding miserable.

Ty moved on. "Olaf?" The big man threw his cards on the table. "Nothing," Ty said for him. "Sven?" 

Ty hissed between his teeth and faked a disappointed expression when Sven showed his cards. "Two pair," he mumbled looking at his own cards. "I'm sorry, Anush." 

As expected, Anush set off in an indecipherable mix of English and Hindi, until Ty rested a hand on his shoulder, cutting him off. 

"I'm sorry, you're not gonna see your mom again for a  _ long time _ ." Ty could see the moment realization dawned on his friend, but Ty could not hide the rising excitement and still yelled out, " 'Cause we're going to America! Full house!" He tossed his cards in the table and slammed his fist down, not caring about the other patrons in the bar that turned to stare. 

Anush jumped from his seat with the tickets in hand, shouting for joy. Ty reached forward to scoop up the rest of the winnings, but Olaf grabbed the front of his shirt and raised his fist. Ty braced himself for the punch, but laughed when Olaf turned his fist to Sven instead. Anush pulled him from the table and wrapped his arms around him, and through laughter, Ty yelled, "I'm going home!" 

Their celebration was cut short by the bartender pointing at the clock behind him - they had five minutes. Ty cursed and he and Anush quickly pocketed the other winnings and grabbed their bags, rushing out of the bar and tearing through the streets. 

As they got closer to the ship, Ty slowed to a stop, awed by the sheer size of the structure. Anush ran back and snatched Ty’s arm, pulling him along. 

Almost high with their glee, they continued shouting as they ran, dodging pedestrians, cars and horses. They ran up the gangway to the loading door with seconds to spare. 

"We're passengers," Ty said to the officer at the door. He showed him their tickets as proof. 

"You've been through the inspection?" the officer asked. 

"Of course," Ty lied. "Anyway, we don't have any lice, we're Americans, both of us." He gestured to himself and Anush, willing the officer to believe him. 

The man looked uncertain but quickly came to a decision. "Alright." As the boys boarded the ship, the officer passed the tickets to the quartermaster. 

“Alright, Gunderson and… Gunderson.” The quartermaster eyed them suspiciously, but still handed back their tickets. 

“C’mon, Sven,” Ty said, pulling Anush along by his arm. They didn't waste anymore time, rushing through the hallways, ducking around other passengers. 

"We're the luckiest sons of bitches in the world, you know that?" Ty shouted at Anush. His friend just laughed, and they finally made it up onto the open deck. Ty and Anush climbed onto the railing just as the ship started moving and waved to the people on the dock, shouting their goodbyes like a couple of adolescent boys. And all Ty could think about was his case, and his families faces, waiting for him in their home in Los Angeles, and Ty grinned like he hadn't done in a very long time. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at me, actually updating. who's surprised?? this chapter does have a description of a murder and violence, so if that bothers you, it starts at "About a month and a half earlier,..." and finishes at the end of that same paragraph. this isn't my best writing, in my opinion, but i needed to get this up.

Ty walked briskly through the hallways, Anush right on his heels. Ty was muttering their room number to himself under his breath, using the repetitive rhythm as a point of focus, something to soothe the dull ache in his head. The noise of the crowded halls felt like glass in his head, and he was eager to relax on his bunk in their quiet room and go over his case notes. Nothing cleared his head quite like a mystery. 

When they finally found their room, Ty breathed a silent sigh of relief. Then cringed inwardly when he saw two other men already in the room. Ty was used to crowded living spaces, being from a family of eight, (which, admittedly, he didn’t mind since they were his brothers and sisters, and he was comfortable with them) but that didn’t mean he had to like it. But, he reminded himself that the arrangement wasn’t for long. 

While Ty immediately steered clear of the other men, Anush introduced himself to them, then threw himself on the top bunk. Ty set his bag down on the bottom mattress and playfully poked Anush in the stomach. 

“Who says you get the top bunk, huh?” he teased. Anush just squirmed and laughed. 

There weren’t a lot of people Ty was comfortable enough with for casual physical contact, his brothers and sisters -Julian and Livvy, especially- being the few. But Anush was practically another brother to him now. Ty had met the other boy when he had finally made it to Punjab in January, the year before. He had quickly enlisted Anush, who was, at the time, a bookstore clerk in-training, to help him with a missing persons case. Over the course of that month-long mystery, Anush and Ty had gotten quite close. After the case was closed, Anush followed Ty everywhere, helping with cases and keeping him company. 

With Anush passed out for a cat nap and their roommates quickly shuffling from the cabin, Ty tucked himself onto his bed, pulling from his bag a small, leather-bound black notebook. Livvy had gotten it for him, working odd jobs around the city to afford the small luxury. He flipped to the pages with his most recent notes. 

About a month and a half earlier, the body of a young pregnant woman had been found in a warehouse in the East End. She was found gagged and bound to a chair, a clean bullet wound through her head. Ty whispered inaudibly to himself as he went down the list he had made; broken nails, bruises and cuts, all signs of a struggle. A black eye, split lip and three broken ribs suggested a minor beating. It was cruel, and harsh, and obviously planned. 

Her name was Elizabeth Cooper, newly married in the winter to a man named Edward Cooper. One thing was clear about the situation: Elizabeth was either murdered as revenge against her husband, or as motivation. It was all very obviously rooted in something darker, so either scenario was plausible, but Ty was steadfast in his belief that it was revenge. 

Edward Cooper had been known around his neighborhood to be secretive, gone for long periods of time and never speaking to neighbors and acquaintances longer than necessary. He had no other family than his wife and future child, and killing the last remaining people in his life was unlikely to motivate him to do anything, making the revenge theory most plausible. The only consistent thing that came up in his research on Edward was a name: Beausejours. 

The Beausejours family was, apparently, known for heading one of the biggest and most successful steel businesses in America, based out of Pennsylvania. They were wealthy, absolutely drowning in dirty money, known in the underground for opium deals and prostitution. The head of the business (and the family), Charles, had died two years before, and his wife Mary had quickly followed. That left one last person - their son and heir to the business, Joseph Beausejours. And rumor had it that the man would be on the maiden voyage of the  _ Titanic _ , from England, back to America. 

There was no doubt in Ty’s mind that Joseph had killed Elizabeth Cooper as revenge for her husband crossing him. 

Ty had all the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place, now he just needed to figure out how to prove it. 

**********

Kit shuffled through the crowded room, dodging maids and butlers to rifle through the canvases that sat in various trunks around the room. 

“This one?” asked Trudy. She held up a smaller canvas covered in muted tones. Kit shook his head, continuing his search. 

“No. It had a lot of faces on it.” Kit pulled a large canvas out of a trunk with a triumphant noise. “ _ This  _ is the one!” 

“Would you like all of them out, sir?” Trudy asked politely. 

“Yes, please.” Kit didn’t look up from the painting to answer. “This room needs a little color.” 

The private deck Joseph had purchased was one of the grandest things Kit had ever seen. A bathroom, two bedrooms, a wardrobe, and a sitting room, all decorated with rich dark brown wood walls overlaid with ornate gold fixtures, thick patterned rugs and porcelain vases on oak tables. Kit in equal parts admired and hated it. It was beautiful, but it carried with it a cold feeling of detachment and indifference that things influenced by unnecessary wealth often did. 

“God, not those finger paintings again,” Joseph scoffed from the doorway to the deck. Kit’s body immediately tensed, as it usually did in Joseph’s presence. But Kit managed to ignore his fiancé in favor of trading canvases with Trudy. “They certainly were a waste of money.” 

Joseph Beausejours was the picture of insufferability, leaning against the doorway in a cream-colored vest and striped shirtsleeves, glass of champagne dangling from his hand. Kit was not exaggerating when he said he hated Joseph. He had to admit the man was attractive, with dark brown hair and bright green eyes that stood out against his tan skin. He was tall and muscular, and had the slightest French accent. But that’s where the redeeming qualities ended. He was obnoxious and arrogant, and Kit wondered for the hundredth time that day why he hadn’t run off and exposed the man for what he really was to the public. 

Then Kit remembered that an action like that would have dire consequences, and quickly abandoned the idea. 

Joseph may have been a dunce in most situations, but he was also cunning, manipulative, and controlling. He was filthy rich, and had gotten his fortune through blackmail and shady deals involving drugs. Of course, Joseph would have never told Kit any of that himself, but Kit had never been opposed to eavesdropping. Kit had “overheard” many of his conversations that way, and some things Kit wished he’d never heard in the first place. 

On top of all that, Joseph had one of the most abhorrent personalities Kit had ever come across, and that was saying something, since he had grown up surrounded by status-obsessed socialites. 

Kit didn’t want to think about what Joseph would do to him if he caught up with a runaway Kit. Being shot and left alone in an alleyway to bleed out would be the best-case scenario. 

“The difference between Joseph’s taste in art and mine is that I have some.” Kit hid his smirk behind a canvas when he heard Joseph splutter indignantly. Kit gave him no chance to retaliate. 

“They’re fascinating. Like being inside a dream or something.” Kit could almost hear his father’s cynical remark and thanked the angels that Johnny wasn’t in the room. “There’s truth but no logic,” he continued, a bit wistfully. 

Kit’s mother, Rosemary, had been a practical and realistic woman. She had died when Kit was nine, so he didn’t remember much, especially not about her life before she had him. But from the little he had heard from their (limited) family friends or bits Johnny or Rosemary had let slip, she had been a very wild and free-spirited teenager. She’d carried that bit of stubbornness and rebellion into adulthood, always in charge and leading the pack. She was goal-oriented and protective, but there were two things she’d slow down for; one was her family, especially her son, and the other was art. 

She had collected paintings and frequented art galleries, attended ballets and operas. She loved to sing, and one of Kit’s clearest memories of her was when she’d hum to herself as she went about her day. It had been important to her that Kit also appreciated the beauty of song, so she taught Kit how to play the piano. She herself wasn’t supposed to know the instrument, as her parents came from a time when music was thought to be too passionate of a hobby for a woman to pursue, but she paid the restriction no mind. Every day, she sat with Kit at the piano and taught him to play, and how to sing her favorite lullabies. Kit treasured both of the abilities. 

Kit had grown up to adopt his mother's love of the arts. Dance, painting and sculpture all fascinated him, and music had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember. Maybe the fascination came from the fact that somebody was able to create something so beautiful out of nothing was wondrous to him. Maybe it was because it provided a dearly needed escape from his own bleak existence. Kit avoided thinking about it too much. 

Trudy placed another painting on the sofa. “What’s the artist’s name?”

“Something… Picasso,” Kit answered distractedly, pulling more pieces out of trunks. 

“‘Something Picasso’ ,” Joseph repeated mockingly. “He won’t amount to a thing. He won’t, trust me!” he said to Kit, even as he ignored him and beckoned Trudy to follow him to the next room. 

When Kit returned to the sitting room to snatch up a forgotten canvas, he stopped briefly to lay his free hand on his fiancé's chest. 

“Really, Joseph, if you believe that someone so expressive and talented won’t be successful, then you shouldn’t have  _ any  _ hope for your own subpar goals and abilities.” Kit patted the other man’s cheek in the same mocking manner Joseph had used moments ago, then bustled back into the bedroom, leaving Joseph to glare at Kit’s back. 

In the bedroom, Kit positioned the painting on the dresser as Trudy hung up Kit’s clothes. 

“It smells so new. Like they built it all  _ just  _ for us.” Trudy hurried over to unbutton the cuffs of Kit’s jacket, even though Kit had told her several times that Kit could handle that himself. “I mean… just to think that tonight, when I crawl between the sheets, I’ll be the first!”

Kit laughed. Trudy and him were about the same age, and Kit considered Trudy to be his best friend. She was one of the kindest people in all the world, he thought. She was beautiful, too, with dark brown hair and hopeful, innocent hazel eyes. In all the times Kit was lonely, or grieving for his mother, or scared of his future with Joseph, Trudy was there for him, drying his tears and whispering kind words to him. He tried to do his best to support Trudy as well, always feeling terrible after crying on her shoulder for hours, knowing that she had it much harder than him. Kit truly did not know what he would be doing if he didn’t have Trudy. 

“Tonight when  _ I  _ crawl between the sheets I’ll  _ still  _ be the first.” 

Kit’s smile died, his stomach dropping. Joseph was leaning against the doorway, sipping his champagne with a slimy smile on his face. He gestured towards the door with his head, a silent command.

Trudy’s cheeks reddened at the innuendo. “S’cuse me, sir,” she said to Kit, practically running from the room. Kit turned away towards the dresser as soon as she left, not wanting to be left alone to stare at Joseph’s smug face. He could hear Joseph close the door and lock it, cold dread settling in his stomach. Kit barely refrained from recoiling in disgust when Joseph stepped behind him, pressing his chest to Kit’s back and wrapping his arms around Kit’s waist and arms. 

To any outsider it would look like an act of intimacy between two lovers. But only Kit could feel the way Joseph squeezed his waist warningly, the way he pressed against Kit until he was trapped between the dresser and Joseph. It was an act of possession, not love. 

“The first and only.” Kit almost jerked away at the touch of Joseph’s lips against his neck. “Forever.” 

The words made Kit’s heart speed up, but not in the way he had always dreamed about. When he was younger, his mother sang love songs, read him words of sweet romance from books in the night, the only time she really showed any vulnerability. After she died, he kept reading the books, kept singing love songs, kept dreaming of one day finding the person who made his heart race and butterflies erupt in his stomach. 

But Joseph was not that person. Joseph would never be that person. And Kit knew better now, that that person didn’t exist.

The thought that Joseph was the person he would be married to, stuck with for life, after they landed in America and got off this ship, made him want to cry. It made him want to rush to the captain and beg him on his knees to slow the ship, change the course, do  _ anything _ . But he could do none of those things. He couldn’t beg to stop the ship. He couldn’t ruin the lives of the hundreds of other people sailing towards a new home. He couldn’t cry, as all his tears had already been shed and dried. 

Instead, he steeled himself and planted a kiss on Joseph’s cheek, hopefully convincing enough so he wouldn’t be suspicious, hopefully not conveying how his skin crawled at the way Joseph was placing kisses up Kit’s neck. Kit turned back towards the dresser, taking a look at his tired, drawn eyes in the mirror, at the fake smile plastered on his face, and resigned himself to his fate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you, hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> do i have 5 million other projects going? yes. did i just start another one? also yes. am i going to stop anytime soon? absolutely not. also, i'm sorry if the Hindi that Anush speaks a couple of times is wrong; i don't speak it, so the Hindi is obviously a product of tons of research across like 5 different websites. plz tell me if it's glaringly wrong. thx for reading!


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